


Adapt or Die

by BootieMonet



Category: Hanna (2011), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassin Mary, BAMF Mary, Crossover, F/M, Gen, POV Mary, Pre-His Last Vow, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BootieMonet/pseuds/BootieMonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover/au where Mary Morstan was once Hanna Zadeck. (Hanna 2011 movie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adapt or Die

Long ago, she had lived deep in the cold wilderness of Finland. She was sixteen years old when she was first introduced to the outside world as a trained killer, and by the time she was seventeen, she had lost everything and everyone she had ever loved. Her name then was Hanna.

These days she went by the name of Mary.

Morstan was her previous surname; Now she was Mrs. Mary Watson, and not for the first time in her erratic life was she scared.

Sitting at the table, drinking a cup of decaffeinated tea, she gently caressed her four month pregnant stomach, softly whispering promises and vows to the little life inside her womb.

Even with her new life of solidarity with her husband, John Watson, she was frightened. She was pregnant. The maternal bliss that usually followed after one discovered such news was replaced with an overwhelming fear for Mary. She had never given thought of having children before. It just seemed like such an unlikely absurd idea that someone with a history like hers could or would ever think of having children, yet here she was.

 

She remembered the first time her Papa had read the encyclopaedic description of childbirth to her. She was eight years old, and huddled in furs by the fireplace in their cramped cabin. She could still hear it being clearly spoken in his voice.

_"Birth or labor, delivery of the fetus by the viviparous mammal. Birth is also known as parturition. Human birth normally occurs about 280 days after onset of the last menstrual period before conception."_

It had fascinated her how one act had the ability to conjur a life, and that a woman would carry that life and have it grow in her belly; the physical and mental anguish part of it were only secondary thoughts to her.

 

For years she had lived in the same constant fear of being hauled back into her old life, and now she had new fears rising.   

What if someone were to abduct her and fiddle around with her child, still in the uterus, just like what a group of people did to her as a fetus? Her husband and his brilliant detective friend, Sherlock Holmes, would most definitely come to their rescue. That was in no way reassuring, as it sprouted another thought; What if they were to kill John and Sherlock, like how they killed her mother and Erik. Both of them died trying to protect her. What if her child would be forced to live a life worse than she had? A life as a government puppet that she herself was intended to live?

She put her arms over her stomach in a protective embrace.

She would never let anyone harm her child. _Never_.

 

Marissa Wiegler and the rest of her party were long dead, and for a long time the not-so-irrational-fear hadn't bothered her. That is, until what transpired at her wedding reception. Someone had sent her an allusive telegram, purposely taunting her, and leaving her disquieted. That was the same evening she discovered she was pregnant, which ultimately augmented her anxiety.

She must have lost her touch at controlling her facial expressions, because John noticed her off-beat, grim self, and asked her what was wrong. She told him that she couldn't tell him for specific reasons. He understood that that meant it had something to do with her past as an orphan, and that the topic was off-limits. She explained to him that she had went through some traumatic events as a child, and that it pained her to speak of them, which he accepted, comprehensively.

She couldn't have him worrying about her, not when there might be an actual threat there. She needed to start acting normal again.

 

John had entered the kitchen to find Mary sitting at the table with one hand jotting down a list in blue ballpoint while the other was pressed against her small baby bump.

"How are my two loves doing?" He said, leaning over his wife to plant a peck on her forehead.

She kept her eyes on the list, but still smiled for him. "I'm writing down a list of baby names. Here are the top two I'm considering." She said, pointing down at the list with the end of her pen.

" 'Sophie' short for Sophia if it's a girl, and Erik if it's a boy." He murmured, nodding at the list in approval. "Sophie is a bit plain, don't you think?"

 

"It was the name of an old friend of mine. First friend, infact."

"And Erik?" She hesitated before answering him.

"Another old friend. He was like a father to me." Afterwards, she wrinkled her nose, making a little face at him. "Too plain? I just want the name to be simple, but still meaningful."

"No, no, those names... They're good. They've got sentimental meaning behind them." He looked further down the list and stopped his finger on one name. Johanna.

"How 'bout this one for a girl? Johanna. That's a lovely name. Why'd you cross it out?"

"I don't know... It's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think? I don't think our child would appreciate a name as difficult as 'Johanna Harriet Watson' when they first enter primary. Not everyone is as keen of big names as _'Sherlock'_ and _'Mycroft's'_ parents."

He chuckled at that, before replying. "Well we could always shorten it to 'Hanna', couldn't we?"

 

Mary's face went painfully still. "No, not keen of it." She stated simply, returning her attention to the list on the table.

John lifted his shoulders and gave a little awkward shrug."I'm going to head out to the clinic to drop off some papers -Do you need me to pick up anything from the supermarket?"

 

"No, I'm fine...wait, actually maybe you could get some turkish delight? I've been craving it like mad." The only store that sold the sweet dessert was on the other side of London, which was precisely why she had asked for it.

John smirked at her. "This is the third time you've asked for that in the last two weeks. But, whatever your cravings desire. I'll be off, now." He said, stealing a swift kiss on the lips, before leaving the kitchen.

Once she was sure that John had left, she picked up her laptop, opened it, and looked through her email.

****New Message from Francis Shore's Department store** _Hello, Mrs. Mary Watson! The canned paint that you pre-ordered have arrived! Daffodil white, Pudding yellow, and Cascade blue. Come by to retrieve them!_**

She re-read each word to make sure that she had read right.

When certain she had, she wrapped herself in a coat, put her gloves and scarf on, and left the flat.

 

After paying the cabbie, she exited the car and strode over to Francis Shore's department store.

She stepped inside and stood by the counter top, where a young girl around 17 stood behind with earbuds plugged in her ears.

"I'm looking for Sebastian Klassen. " she said, with a grin printed on her face.

The girl behind the counter popped her chewing gum, and pulled her earbuds out. She looked over Mary with suspicious eyes.

"And you are?"

 

"Mary Watson. I preordered three cans of paint and received an email that they arrived."

Her eyes alight, the girl nodded and moved to the back of the store, hurriedly. Out from the back appeared a tall built man, with white paint spots on his shirt, hands and his black hair.

He ushered her inside his office with a wave of his hand. He closed the door behind them, and seated her down, and started off by speaking to her in German.

"I know you told me not to contact you anymore because of your new life and whatnot, but it's important that you know what I've learned."

She responded in German. 

" _Information_ , _past_ , _unexpected_. What's happened, Seb?" She asked, listing off the coded word meanings, with her fingernails digging into the armchair.

He leaned in on the cluttered desk that separated the two, resting his elbows on it.

"A man from Austria has been digging for old files of the research facility in Galinka. " Her throat went dry. "...A man in Austria, " she uttered, mostly to herself. "- what kind of man are we talking about?" "An important one. He's the corporate owner of Appledore. He also owns several of the city's newsprint, and that he's no longer living in Austria. He's here in London, which allows me to believe that he's recovered information of a certain someone-"

She abruptly cut him off, hearing enough of his implications.

"- It's impossible. He can't know who I am. All Galinka records have been lost for years, and even if he did manage to find them, the file would say that I have been deceased for thirty-three years."

"Perhaps he's recruited someone who has some knowledge of your history. Who - besides me- knows about Hanna Zadeck?"

She could only think of one other person who knew that name and was alive. "Nolan knows, of course. But, you know that he would never give out my information...- "

"I wouldn't say 'never'. You were his favourite and best equipped assassin - yet, you quit to live a 'normal' life with some bloke." He looked pointedly at her stomach. "And I see you're expecting. Congratulations."

"What do I do, Seb?" She cut him off, distractedly. "If this man does know about me and my connection to the Galinka facility, what should I do?"

"Well if you want to do this in a _'normal'_ fashion, then I suggest you run and hide. Or you could slip on your old work uniform and get rid of him the easy way. Up to you."

It felt as if someone held a pillowcase tucked over her head, rousing a horrible sensation of claustrophobia. "I can't do that, Seb. I have a life here. I have a husband and a child on the way... I can't just run off and drop everything."

He leaned back in his chair and popped a cig into his mouth, lighting it. "Then that leaves the other option." He blew out a ring of smoke in her direction. "Like they say, 'kill, or be killed', or in this particular case, 'kill, or have all the secrets of your past exposed.' " He chuckled, deeply in his throat. "I know you hate it when I speak so dramatically, but it's true enough, no?"

 

She withdrew from her chair, and plucked the cigarette between his lips, putting it out on the ashtray on his desk. She leaned in on the surface, and looked at him with a chilled glare. "Don't _ever_ smoke a cigarette infront of me, again. I'm pregnant." She tossed the cig nub at him.

"Killing is not an option for me anymore." She paused, before continuing, "Atleast it isn't until I learn what he knows."

 

He scowls at her when she hits him with the cigarette nub, and sits up straight in his chair.

"And how do you propose to do that? I thought you weren't going to involve yourself in any old business crap." Spewing the words at her in english.

 

She sweeps her fringe aside, collecting herself. "I'm not going to do anything; not yet. Not unless he makes a move."

Sebastian peered at her for a moment, really looking at her, now. Mary's appearance had gone over such an extreme transformation since the time they first discovered her hiding inside in the garage of their meet-up building.    

She was wounded, shot in the hip bone, and saturated in blood, sweat, and grime. She put up quite a fight, killing two of the five men that were handling her, with nothing but her bare hands for a weapon.

They sedated her and locked her in a room under Nolan's orders; he was impressed by her resilience, strength and speed while being wounded, and was astonished by her vast linguistic skills and repetition of encyclopedic facts. They took her in, and raised her as one of them, involving her in their line of work. Seb smirked at the visual memory of her sixteen year old self; wiry, with white blonde unkempt hair, and alabaster skin to match. She was practically albino if it weren't for those vivid blue eyes of hers which had stayed very much the same.

It was odd to see her dressed like this. She looked so... ordinarily, English.

"Thank you for informing me of this. It was good to see you again, Sebastian. You still working under Nolan?"

He nodded. "O'course. I've got myself a big assignment coming up rather soon."

A mischievous grin snuck onto his face as a thought crossed his mind. "I think Sebastian is a good proper name for a boy. If you're still looking for baby names, that is."

She pulled a repulsed face as she moved closer to the door. "Not even an option; besides, I have a feeling that it's a girl."

"Goodbye, Sebastian ' _Klassen'_."

 

"Farewell, _'_ _Mary'_!" He called after her.

 

 

Walking out of the shop she let her face expose her true feelings for only a flicker of a second.

It was if someone had been listening to her recent thoughts and fears and decided to release them to catch her off guard; to startle her. It worked.

 

To Mary's shock, a month and a half had passed with ease and no conflict. 

She and John found out that they were expecting a little girl, and there had been no suspicious activity regarding the man that Sebastian had warned her about.

That is, until she received a phone call from an unfamiliar number while walking around the marketplace on her own, nibbling on a sarny.

"Guten tag, Ms. Morstan!" Uttered an accented voice from the other line, cheerfully. "Oh wait, it's Mrs. Watson, now, isn't it? Silly me. Excuse my poor german, I'm afraid my linguistic skills are rather inferior to yours."

She almost spat out her mouthful. Instead, she leisurely swallowed her food and played the naive part.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, I don't speak German. I think you may have the wrong number-"

The person on the phone transferred to English.

 

" _Mary, Mary, Mary_. That's not how you play the game. The rule is that once I ask you what your name is, you have to answer with your name. Understood?"

She casually carried on walking around, paying close attention to his words.

 

"Now," said the stranger, "what's your name?"

 

"Mary Wats-"

"No, no. Your real name, dear. Follow the rules, or this won't be any fun."

 

"That is my name. I don't know who you are, but I should warn you that my husband was an army doctor, and if you should come near me he most certainly will put a stop to you."

"Oh, I know that. Your husband, John Watson. He came back from Afghanistan four years ago, and met an unlikely acquaintance, in which he became apart of duo partnership in helping solve crimes and documenting them on his blog. His enigmatic friend, Sherlock Holmes, faked his own suicide in order to dismantle the infamous James Moriarty's crime web for two years. During those two years, he met you; an innocent looking, pretty nurse, searching for employment. A young woman who was orphaned as a child, and who had such an interesting back story. A back story that I'm sure would make front covers and topple governments all over the world. I'm certain that you know what my name is; what's yours?"

Mary had to keep herself from snarling at him. She did not want to cause anyone's attention to be directed at her.

"And why should I say it? It seems like you already know what it is anyway."

"You're right, I do know it. But alas, those are the rules. Now, say it."

 

She hesitated, and looked around; an old lady was holding the hand of a little boy, who was tugging her towards the sweet shop, another lady was trying to calm down her crying babe, while an old south Korean couple crossed her path, bickering at each other in their natural tongue.

"Hanna. Ahanna Zadeck." She muttered under her breath.

He tutted her, prolonging each sound. "That's not the full thing, but I'll take it."

Her heart was beating hard against her chest, as if threatening to break its way out. She told herself that she needed to keep her voice steady. She would not allow him to hear the panic he had caused in her.

"What exactly is it that you want from me?"

 

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just have a raging passion for hoarding secrets. Yours are particularly delicious."

"Then why bother making this phone call? why bother telling me at all if there's nothing I can do to persuade you to stop?" She squeezed the words out through clenched teeth, while her nails poked holes in her shopping bag.

 

"As you well know, Mary, I'm not your average business man. I do inexplicable things to get my way - and I always get my way." There was a pause on the other side of the phone, followed by the clinking of glass and a slurping sound.

"I still don't understand. What is the point of doing this?"

"You are _vital_ , Mary."

That threw her off. She opened her mouth to speak when she heard the phone line switch off, abruptly.

 

She looked down at her phone, scrutinizing the mobile as if it would somehow reveal the mystery of the conversation that just occurred.

Her mind kept repeating one thought over, and over. A thought that was embedded in her brain since the time she could first wield a weapon. Like how an old healed wound left a shiny scar as a permanent reminder.

It was the only way, she told herself.  

The only way to keep everyone safe. She needed everyone to be safe.

**_'Adapt or die.'_ **

**Author's Note:**

> This may end up being a multi-chapter, however it mostly depends on the response it gets, so for now I'll just leave it as a one shot.
> 
> (P.S. I'm still cringing about the coded paint thingy, mmmk.)


End file.
